


Blue Bucket of Gold

by sangha



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rimming, Rough Sex, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, working out feelings through sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangha/pseuds/sangha
Summary: Steve hasn’t been chasing every goddamn lead for four months straight for it to end here. This is not how he imagined their reunion going. In his fantasies, they’d go back to the way they were before the war ripped their lives apart. He’d played out so many different versions in his head: sometimes Bucky would come to him, sometimes he’d find Bucky and they’d look at each other and everything would click into place again. Sometimes Bucky would kiss him, just to let Steve know he remembered everything.None of his fantasies took this ugly turn. He never thought he’d be angry with Bucky, but he feels rage thrumming in his veins. He never thought Bucky wouldn’t even give him a chance.





	Blue Bucket of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up: Steve and Bucky's relationship is less than healthy at the start of this fic. They're stubborn and angry and they try to work out their feelings through sex, which is generally ill-advised in a real-life context. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Title taken from the Sufjan Stevens song of the same name.

It starts in Prague. It’s been four months since the events on the Potomac and though Steve hasn’t quite lost hope yet, he’s starting to despair a little. Up until a few weeks ago, Sam had gone with him. But Sam’s mother’s health had suddenly taken a turn for the worse and he’d had no choice but to return home. Steve would never begrudge him that, of course. 

So now he’s on his own, looking for Bucky. He’s not sure what he’ll find if he ever finds Bucky. He’s sure Bucky recognized him, right before he fell. There is only one person who could have dragged him out of the river to safety. But that tells him nothing about Bucky’s state of mind. It doesn’t tell him how much Bucky remembers. 

He’s following an admittedly flimsy lead but then, all his leads have been flimsy. Just some grainy security footage of someone who looked like Bucky, but could also look like a thousand other guys. He scours abandoned buildings in the neighborhood where the footage had been taken. He’s not expecting to actually find Bucky here.

By the end of the day, exhausted, Steve enters a tiny coffee shop. Technically, he doesn’t _need_ caffeine, but the placebo effect is real. He’s just about to order in his best Czech, when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. 

It’s Bucky. 

He looks better than Steve expected. Healthy. His hair is still long, longer than it was in DC. It doesn’t look like he cut it since then. Even so, he looks more like the Bucky he remembers from before the war. They stare at each other in a weird standoff, Bucky standing about six feet from Steve. Steve’s brain kicks into overdrive. Bucky hasn’t moved yet, but he looks like he could bolt any second. He’s not sure what the right move is here. 

The barista is talking to Steve, trying to get his attention. He turns his head towards her, and in that moment, Bucky is on the move. 

Steve mutters an apology at her as he pursues Bucky out of the coffee shop. Bucky looks behind him, giving Steve an annoyed look. Steve doesn’t care; he’s not letting Bucky out of his sight. Not now. 

Bucky ducks into alley after alley, clearly trying to ditch Steve. Anger starts boiling in Steve’s gut. He’s been searching for his best friend for months and now that he’s finally found him, he’s trying his hardest to get rid of Steve? 

Bucky enters a dilapidated apartment building, entering an apartment on the ground floor. For a second, Steve thinks Bucky has led him back to his own apartment and hope blossoms in his chest. But as soon as he follows Bucky inside, it’s clear nobody lives here, and especially not Bucky. Two of the windows are broken and the door doesn’t close properly. This is not the hideout of someone on the run. 

Whoever lived here before, left behind some furniture. A bookcase with a thick layer of dust covering its shelves, a few rickety wooden chairs, and a worn down mattress on the floor with a few springs sticking out of it. 

“What do you want?” Bucky asks.

Steve raises his eyebrows. Sam had warned him Bucky might not be welcoming, but Steve hadn’t listened. Sam had been skeptical from the beginning; he didn’t even think Bucky really remembered Steve. “I’ve been looking for you, Buck.” He needs to say his name, needs Bucky to hear it. He’s gone too long without it.

“Ever occur to you I don’t want to be found?” Bucky spits back. 

Steve is taken aback. “I...you saved me. In DC,” he says. That had to mean something, right?

Bucky huffs. “I shot you.” He says it coldly, matter-of-factly, and somehow that hurts more than those bullets did. 

“That wasn’t you,” Steve tries. Natasha had dug up more and more information on the Winter Soldier over the past four months. He knew enough to know that whatever Bucky did in those years wasn’t his fault. 

“How the fuck do you know? You don’t know me.” 

Steve takes a step closer. The anger he felt during that chase is returning. “I’ve known you your whole life, Buck. I know you.”

Bucky widens his stance, as if gearing for a fight. “I’m not him.”

Steve steps closer again. “I’m just trying to help you, goddammit.” 

Bucky tenses, but stays put, as if daring Steve to come any closer. His metal arms whirrs. “Don’t want it. Now fuck off.”

No, no, no. This is not how this is going to go. Steve hasn’t been chasing every goddamn lead for four months straight for it to end here. He takes another step, leaving barely two feet of space between them. He expects Bucky to step back, or to make any move at all, but he just stands there, back straight, feet planted firmly on the ground. “You think you can shake me off, just like that?” Steve says, voice rising. “You think I’d tear down a country for you and then leave, right after finding you?” He laughs bitterly. This is not how he imagined their reunion going. In his fantasies, they’d go back to the way they were before the war ripped their lives apart. He’d played out so many different versions in his head: sometimes Bucky would come to him, sometimes he’d find Bucky and they’d look at each other and everything would click into place again. Sometimes Bucky would kiss him, just to let Steve know he remembered _everything._

None of his fantasies took this ugly turn. He never thought he’d be angry with Bucky, but he feels rage thrumming in his veins. He never thought Bucky wouldn’t even give him a chance. 

Bucky scoffs. Finally, he moves. He’s heading for the exit, but Steve grabs his wrist to stop him. He _needs_ Bucky to hear him out. It’s the wrong move. Before he knows what hit him, Steve is slammed to the floor, a metal hand around his throat. He’s not exerting much pressure; Steve knows he could easily crush his windpipe if he wanted to and he decides to take that as a good sign, fucked up as it may be. Bucky stares at him, face unreadable. The moment stretches on and on and Steve is unsure where this is going.

He wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist and flips them, pinning his wrists above his head in the process. Bucky isn’t putting up much of a fight; that really shouldn’t have been so easy. Steve searches Bucky’s face, trying to understand what’s happening in his head right now. Steve is panting slightly; not so much from exertion as from stress. He’s so close to Bucky; for the first time in 70 years, he’s seeing that face up close again. He looks for the features he knows so well: the cleft in his chin, the bow of his lips, the steel-blue of his eyes. He wants to see that face every day for the rest of his life. He doesn’t understand why Bucky won’t let him, won’t even talk to him. They’re pressed together, Bucky’s legs between his own, in a perverse imitation of a position that’s intimately familiar to him. He wonders if Bucky remembers this, if he’s thinking of the same thing right now. He doesn’t know how to break this tension. He needs to say the right thing - whatever will make Bucky want to listen to him - but he has no clue what that might be. So he stays silent, trying to figure out why Bucky isn’t trying to escape from his hold. 

He loosens his grip on Bucky’s wrists and suddenly, Bucky’s right hand is coming up behind Steve’s head, pulling him down those last few inches and pressing their lips together. Steve gasps into the kiss - if it can even be called that. It’s rough, almost aggressive, nothing like the soft kisses Bucky used to be so fond of. But then Bucky pulls on his lower lip like he used to and all of Steve’s thoughts fly out the window. He kisses back with fervor, giving as good as he gets. He’s missed this more than he ever thought possible. Steve breaks the kiss to start trailing down Bucky’s neck, wanting to suck bruises into his skin, but Bucky pulls on his hair, pulling his head away from Bucky’s neck.

“I’m not him,” he says again. 

Steve is in no mood to argue the finer points, here. Bucky clearly remembers their relationship. That’s good enough for him. “Don’t care.”

“You should,” Bucky insists. He kisses Steve roughly again, and he’s not sure if that’s supposed to prove his point. Steve moans and Bucky rolls his hips in response. Steve grinds down, his cock rapidly growing to full hardness. Bucky keeps pulling on his hair and that’s definitely not a thing they did before but God, Steve is into it. 

Bucky grabs Steve by the waist and rolls them over again. He keeps rutting against Steve, and even through all those layers of clothing, Steve can feel how hard he is. He grabs Bucky’s ass to direct his movements just how he wants them, and Bucky moans. That hasn’t changed, at least, Steve thinks to himself, grinning. 

They settle on a hard and fast rhythm that pushes both of them to the edge embarrassingly quickly. He knows he’s close, so he brings up one hand to pull Bucky’s face down to his once again, kissing him filthily, his tongue fucking into Bucky’s mouth in that way he _knows_ drives Bucky crazy. Sure enough, Bucky’s hips speed up, pushing Steve over the edge. Bucky follows mere seconds after. 

He can’t remember the last time he came in his pants and in any other circumstance, he’d be embarrassed. Now, he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Bucky collapses on top of him, breathing heavily, and moves to the side a moment later.

Steve’s eyelids feel heavy. He hasn’t been sleeping well since seeing Bucky on that bridge in DC and today was an emotional rollercoaster. He lets his eyes close, just for a second, he thinks.

**

He wakes up just half an hour later, but Bucky is gone. 

\---

The next time it happens is in Antwerp. It’s been six weeks since Prague. Bucky knows it’s only a matter of time before Steve tracks him down again, but for now, he thinks he’s ahead of Steve.

At least, until Steve suddenly shows up in his apartment. Jesus Christ. He thought he’d been careful, but then again, a guy with a metal arm is bound to stand out. 

He looks at Steve, that look of righteous indignation on his face. God, how Steve gets under his skin. He’d been more than a little pissed off when Steve found him in Prague. He had been thinking of staying in Prague, if he could. But of course, Steve had to fuck that up for him. 

“What the fuck?” Steve begins, as if Bucky isn’t the one who should be asking that question.

“You’re in my apartment,” Bucky says, because really, what else is he supposed to say?

Steve looks different than he did in Prague. Angrier. “You left.” It’s an accusation.

“Yeah.” No point in denying it. They both know what happened.

“Why?” Steve demands, crossing his arms. He’s got that look on his face that tells Bucky he’s not going to let this go. That look got Steve into plenty of fights Bucky had to help him out of.

“I told you, I’m not him.” Bucky had tried to get this into Steve’s head. He’s not so good with words anymore. Prague was a mistake. It was just that he had Steve pinned and suddenly he _wanted_. He wasn’t even sure if he _liked_ Steve - still isn’t sure, if he’s being completely honest. But God, he wanted Steve. That was not a familiar feeling to him anymore. And then Steve had stared at him like that, like Bucky was something to want and he couldn’t help but kiss him. They wouldn’t go back to what they were before, and it was stupid, but it had also felt right to just chase what he wanted, even for a few minutes.

“So why’d you kiss me?” Steve shouts. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” he adds more quietly, shoulders sagging.

“And yet, here you are, in my apartment,” Bucky points out. Bucky didn’t ask to be chased; that was all Steve.

“Fuck you.”

“If you want.” The words leave Bucky’s mouth before his brain can catch up to them. He half expects Steve to punch him, but he stands his ground as Steve approaches him. He’s inches from Bucky’s face.

“That what you want?” he asks.

“Won’t mean I’ll stay.” Bucky needs Steve to understand this. He’s not trying to trick Steve. It’s just that he’s been getting off on the idea of doing this, even though he knows it’s fucked up in more ways than he can count. He’ll definitely pay for this in some way, but right now, with Steve so close he can feel his breath on his face, he’s on board as long as Steve is.

Steve appraises him. Bucky can almost hear the cogs turning in his head. 

“You’re angry,” Bucky says. It’s not a question. “So. Get it out of your system.” 

Steve’s eyes widen. Bucky may have gaps in his memory, but he knows they never did this before. 

“You’re serious,” Steve says. 

“Well, yeah.” It’s a bad idea. They both know it. But before either of them can change their minds, Steve is pushing Bucky towards the bed, letting Bucky fall on it, Steve following him down. 

He kisses Bucky hard and pulls at his shirt. He sits up so Steve can pull it off. It’s only then that he realizes Steve has never seen the scars on his chest. He can see Steve’s eyes softening and he can’t have that right now.

“If you’re going to pity me, I’m ending this,” Bucky announces. 

Steve’s expression hardens again and he pushes Bucky down. He tugs off his own shirt and yeah, this was definitely one of Bucky’s better bad ideas. He lets his hands roam over Steve’s chest as Steve is working on getting Bucky’s jeans off. Steve grumbles something like “fucking shoes” when he realizes Bucky’s shoes are currently in the way of getting his jeans all the way off. He gets off the bed and makes quick work of the shoes and socks and finally the jeans. For good measure, Steve strips down to his underwear as well. 

Bucky licks his lips at the sight. Steve’s just as he remembers him. He spots a light scar on Steve’s belly, right where Bucky shot him. He pushes that thought down. “You just gonna stand there or you gonna fuck me?” Bucky asks. 

Steve groans and sits down on the bed next to Bucky. His hand snakes into Bucky’s boxers, stroking his cock slowly a few times. It’s too gentle. 

Bucky grabs his wrist to stop him. “Just fucking ruin me,” he says. He doesn’t want sweet.

Steve’s pupils dilate. Bucky reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand and presses it into Steve’s other hand. Something in Steve’s eyes turns colder, and for a second, Bucky wonders if this is really the version of Steve he wanted. But when Steve all but rips his boxers in an attempt to get them off and pushes a finger inside him without much preamble, it feels just right. He adds a second finger as soon as Bucky relaxes into the first, making Bucky gasp.

“This what you wanted?” Steve asks, his fingers stretching him as quickly as possible. There’s not much finesse to it, but then, Bucky didn’t ask for that.

“Yeah,” he gasps. He hasn’t felt someone else inside of him since 1945 and it’s so much better than he remembered. Steve adds another finger before long and Bucky’s getting impatient with it. “C’mon, I’m ready,” he tells Steve.

Steve doesn’t argue. He pulls off his own briefs, slicks up his cock, and then he’s pushing into Bucky. He gives Bucky a few moments to adjust before pushing all the way in. He looks at Bucky, who gives him the go-ahead by nodding.

Steve sets a brutal pace from the start, holding himself up by his arms planted firmly on either side of Bucky’s head. Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s waist, his right hand finding its way to Steve’s head. It hadn’t escaped his notice how much Steve liked him pulling on his hair last time, so he does it again. Steve groans and speeds up, deliberately aiming for Bucky’s prostate. 

God bless that super soldier stamina, Bucky thinks hysterically. Steve can keep up this pace for much longer than any other human could and it’s sending Bucky straight to heaven right now. He can’t think of anything but Steve fucking into him over and over and over again. 

“You gonna come like this?” Steve asks.

Bucky smirks. “Gonna have to try a little harder for that.” It’s a downright lie; he’s close already and if Steve keeps this up a few more minutes, he’s definitely coming.

Steve, of course, has never backed down from a challenge. He grips Bucky’s hips, moving them a little higher off the bed and continues his onslaught. If Bucky thought he was getting railed before, it’s nothing compared to this. In this position, Steve is drilling straight into his prostate. A litany of moans falls from Bucky’s lips. “You mean like this?” Steve manages to say. Bucky has no idea how he’s coherent enough to speak right now.

He doesn’t bother answering. Steve knows exactly what he’s doing. He feels his balls tightening and moments later, his cock is spurting out come without having been touched. 

“Fuck,” Steve groans at the sight. He doesn’t slow down one bit, chasing his own release. Bucky deliberately clenches around him, pulls him down for a rough kiss by pulling on his hair again and it only takes a few more thrusts for him to feel Steve filling him up. 

Steve’s arms finally give out, collapsing on top of Bucky. Minutes pass and he doesn’t move.

The come has starting drying on Bucky’s chest and he can feel Steve’s come leak out of him. He’s starting to get uncomfortable, but Steve is still not moving. “Steve?” Bucky begins. “I’m not staying.” 

Steve sighs. “I know.” He rolls off Bucky without protesting.

\---

He doesn’t tell Sam. He avoids Natasha. She’d know _something_ is up if he spent more than five minutes with her. At least his job provides him with a decent cover. He’s genuinely busy most of the time. 

It turns into something of a routine. Bucky becomes easier to find. Steve finds him in Thessaloniki, in Milan, in Malmö, in Rotterdam. More than once, Steve thinks he’s not even really trying to hide anymore. But then, every encounter plays out along the same lines. They argue, they fuck, and Bucky tells him he can’t stay. 

This new Bucky is a pain in the ass, mostly. He’s prickly and pissed off most of the time, and everything Steve says or does seems to be wrong. But he also lets himself be found time and time again. He tries to hide his smile when Steve shows up, but Steve sees right through him. He knows that face better than his own. He keeps insisting he can’t ever stay, but a few weeks later, he’ll look at Steve as if he’s been waiting for Steve to show up and fuck him into oblivion.

He knows it’s unhealthy, this arrangement they have. It’s not even defensible, really. Who knows what kind of headspace Bucky is in? And Steve is taking advantage of it. But every time they see each other, Bucky pushes Steve’s buttons, assures Steve he wants this, and Steve can’t find it in himself to refuse. 

He feels more human with Bucky than he has in a long time, even if the sex is completely devoid of intimacy. It’s always rough, sometimes bordering on aggressive, and on one memorable occasion, Bucky had scratched Steve’s back so hard he’d drawn blood. But when he’s with Bucky, blood pumping through his veins so hard he can almost feel it, he feels _alive_. He didn’t even realize he’d been living in a haze until Bucky woke him up. 

So yes, it’s fucked up. It’s unhealthy. They shouldn’t do this. And yet. 

**

Steve’s been having a shit week. He went on a mission five days ago. It didn’t go well. What the hell kind of person planted bombs in a hospital? He managed to get a few people out from under the rubble alive, but far too many had been lifeless as he carried their bodies outside. 

He’s required to see a therapist after events like this, but he has trouble trusting him. He’s no good with opening up to people about these things. Sam had quietly suggested it might be a generational thing and he’s probably right. Doesn’t change the fact that he has no idea what to say when he’s sitting in a chair facing someone who gets paid to listen to his problems.

When he gets another lead on Bucky, this time in Tallinn, he doesn’t waste time. Sam asks if he should come with, but Steve gives him the same answer he’s given him for the last six months.

“It’s probably nothing, anyway.” 

It doesn’t feel good to lie to one of his closest friends, but he can only imagine what Sam would say if he knew what he and Bucky get up to. 

Bucky is squatting a house this time. It’s not hard to find him; Steve tracked down his location in less than a day. He doesn’t bother knocking - he never does. He just shows up in the living room to find Bucky waiting for him there. 

The house is sparsely furnished, though it looks to be otherwise in good shape. It’s freezing outside, but it’s nice and warm in here. The house is on the outskirts of town, in a neighborhood that seems to have a few more abandoned houses. It’s the kind of neighborhood Bucky prefers, Steve knows by now. 

Bucky gets up from the couch he was sitting on, approaching Steve. “So. Here we are again,” Bucky says by way of greeting.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t feel like their games today. 

Bucky freezes in his tracks. “What’s going on?” 

“Can you just make me forget? Please?” Steve asks.

Bucky frowns. “Forget what?”

“Everything.”

Silence stretches between them. Steve considers leaving, but then Bucky is moving closer again. He takes Steve’s hand and leads him up the stairs to the bedroom. Usually, there’s a lot of pushing and pulling involved. This is something else entirely. Steve sits down on the bed, unsure of how to proceed. 

Bucky stands in front of him, looking just as conflicted. Eventually, he moves to tug at Steve’s shirt, and this part is familiar, at least. He unties Steve’s shoes and unbuckles Steve’s jeans. “Lift,” he says, tapping Steve’s hip. He pulls his jeans and briefs down in one go. Bucky is still fully dressed and it’s giving Steve a heady feeling. 

Bucky kneels in front of him, pushes Steve’s knees apart. His face is inches from Steve’s cock. “Okay?” he asks.

Steve nods, breathless.

Bucky bends down and takes the head in his mouth, suckling gently. Steve’s head is spinning. This is not the way this usually goes. It’s usually rough and quick and dirty. Not this, this almost worshipping of Steve. Finally, Bucky moves further down, hollowing his cheeks and setting a faster pace, closer to what Steve has become used to over the last six months. Bucky’s throat relaxes enough to let him in, swallowing around the head of Steve’s cock. He’s not gonna last long like this.

“Buck, I’m gonna come,” he groans. 

Abruptly, Bucky pulls off, not touching Steve at all.

“What the fuck?” He’s breathing heavily, his cock dripping precome, and he’s annoyed as hell.

“You trust me?” Bucky asks.

The questions hangs heavy between them. What a silly thing to ask, Steve thinks. He’d follow Bucky anywhere. He tried to break through Bucky’s programming, against everyone’s advice. He’s been chasing him around Europe, on his own, without telling anyone about meeting Bucky. He’s never not trusted Bucky. But he knows this new Bucky well enough by now to know that saying that wouldn’t go over well and he really doesn’t want to fuck up tonight. So he’ll just settle for something clear and simple. “Yes.”

Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s inner thigh, so close to where Steve wants him. “So trust me.”

He coaxes Steve to move up the bed and lie down on his front. Just as Steve begins to wonder where this is going, he feels Bucky’s hands - one warm, one cold and hard - spread his cheeks, exposing his hole. He squirms on the bed. Bucky has fingered him a few times while sucking him off since this whole thing started, but nothing like this. He hears Bucky move behind him, hot breath suddenly blowing over his hole. “Okay?” Bucky asks again.

Steve’s brain short circuits. They’ve never done this, not even before the war. It seems wrong, but with Bucky so close, he wants to know what it would feel like. “Yeah,” he chokes out, voice already sounding wrecked.

Bucky traces the tip of his tongue around the rim and Steve moans loudly, much louder than he intended to. He can practically _feel_ Bucky grinning behind him, who takes that as his cue to really get to work. He licks a broad stripe over his hole with the flat of his tongue before trying to coax his tongue inside, curling it on the rim every time he pulls out again.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve moans brokenly. His hips start rutting against the sheets of their own accord, trying to get friction on his cock.

“Tsk,” Bucky scolds from behind him. He hauls Steve up by his hips, Steve’s knees coming up underneath him to steady himself. It’s a humiliating position, face down and ass in the air like this, but he can’t be bothered to give a fuck right now. “No touching yourself,” Bucky says, before diving back in. 

It’s not enough to make Steve come, but he feels like he’s been right on the precipice for at least five minutes. “Buck, please.” He’s drooling all over Bucky’s sheets and his cock is dripping a steady stream of pre-come. 

Bucky ignores him and continues his onslaught. Bucky works inside a finger beside his tongue and Steve sighs in relief. He knows that the slightest attention to his prostate will set him off now. To his frustration, that’s not where Bucky goes. He very deliberately avoids that spot, the bastard. Steve realizes that’s exactly the point of what Bucky’s doing. He gives in to Bucky, tension seeping out of his body.

“That’s it,” Bucky says quietly. It’s the gentlest thing he’s said to Steve ever since this whole thing started.

Eventually, he adds a second and then a third finger, with lube this time. Steve isn’t sure where the lube came from, but he doesn’t care enough to ask. Bucky is still ignoring his prostate entirely. 

Steve had no idea how much time passes before Bucky removes his fingers and presses a kiss to the bottom of Steve’s spine. Steve shivers in response. He feels the blunt head of Bucky’s cock pushing against his rim. He gasps as Bucky enters him. The last time he bottomed was 1945. 

“How do you want it?” Bucky asks.

“Whatever you want,” Steve replies. He’ll take anything Bucky wants to give him.

Bucky stills behind him. “You need to come?” he asks after a moment. It’s probably the most they’ve talked during sex. 

Steve considers for a moment. He’s been on edge ever since Bucky sucked him off. He wants to come, but that hazy feeling he got while Bucky was rimming him, that’s what he needs more than anything right now. “You decide when,” he finally says. 

Bucky curses under his breath. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he says and his tone doesn’t leave room for argument.

Steve nods. Bucky grips his hips tightly, pulls almost completely out and slams back in, aiming for Steve’s prostate. It’s a slow but hard pace, not enough to make Steve come, but his spine tingles with every thrust in and he can feel every thought seeping out of his head. 

After a while, Bucky switches to grinding deep inside Steve, directly stimulating his prostate now. 

“Buck, gonna come,” Steve whines.

Bucky pulls back, resting just inside Steve and stills his hips. Steve’s breathing is erratic, his heart beating wildly. Bucky waits for him to calm down before moving again. He starts slow, but quickly builds up to the pace Steve usually fucks Bucky at. 

“Buck, please,” he begs. He needs to come, is almost out of his mind with it. 

Bucky’s flesh hand reaches around and begins stroking his cock. He fucks forward into Bucky’s hand and back onto his cock and there is no way this is going to last much longer. 

“C’mon, that’s it, go on,” Bucky encourages him and that’s all it takes for him to finally come, hips moving erratically and pulling Bucky along into his own orgasm. 

Bucky pulls out carefully and Steve’s knees give out underneath him. His limbs feel like noodles. Bucky lies down beside him, breathing heavily. 

Steve knows he has to get up in a few minutes. That’s how this always goes. He’s not sure his body will cooperate. Bucky wrecked him. More than that, tonight was different. It wasn’t the usual angry fucking. Steve had been upset and Bucky had known what he needed without needing much explanation. He doesn’t want to leave just yet. 

Bucky hasn’t moved yet, either. He hasn’t told Steve to leave. 

“Bucky?” Steve begins.

“Hmm?”

“Can I stay?”

“Steve…” Bucky protests.

“I know. I know. You’re not gonna stay. But let me stay tonight? I promise I’ll leave tomorrow.” He can’t leave tonight. 

“Okay.”

Steve smiles into the sheets. 

He wakes up the next morning before sunrise, his legs tangled in Bucky’s. He leaves before Bucky wakes up.

\---

The bed is still warm where Steve slept. Bucky’s lying on his side, hand tracing the sheets, as if he can still capture some of Steve like this. He rolls on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was never supposed to be like this. Steve was never supposed to find him in the first place. 

They crossed a line last night. Steve usually showed up, looking like he had a chip on his shoulder about something or other. Bucky, probably. But that time, he looked so forlorn. There were dark circles under his eyes and he had this haunted look. 

Bucky had just wanted to take him out of his head for a few hours. He knows how to do that, if nothing else. He couldn’t just be angry with Steve, take out all his frustrations through sex with Steve. That wouldn’t work this time. When confronted with those puppy eyes, he felt compelled to be gentler. 

He wonders what would have happened if he’d woken up before Steve left. Would he have kicked Steve out, like he always did? Or would he have let him stay, just for a few more hours? He honestly doesn’t know anymore. 

**

The routine changes. Bucky still moves from European city to European city, Steve following him wherever he goes. They still don’t talk about whatever this is, but they aren’t as angry as they were before Tallinn. It’s still rough and quick, but there are gentle touches peppered throughout their moments together.

Steve stays the night more often than not nowadays. He always leaves before the sun comes up. 

**

Bucky is surprised to find the hotel still intact. They’d stayed here for a few days in the fall of 1944. It was one of the few times they’d been granted leave. They barely left the room, instead choosing to fuck each other’s brains out. It’s not like they got a lot of opportunities while they were out in the field. The Howlies surely knew what they were up to, but they never commented on it. 

On a whim, Bucky walks in, checking for vacancies. Inside, it looks very different than it did all those years ago. But as he walks up to his room, key card in hand, the hallways don’t look that different. It takes him right back. 

He has left a deliberate trail for Steve to follow. It won’t take long for him to trace Bucky to London. He saw Steve only a week ago. The intervals between their meetings has shortened so much Bucky sometimes wonders if Steve even bothers going back to the States. He also wonders what Steve tells his friends and coworkers. They don’t talk about those things. 

It takes Steve less than 24 hours to find him. Bucky receives a call from reception, telling him there’s someone here to see him. Steve is standing in the lobby, his back to Bucky. His head is tilted slightly up, looking at the wooden beams that have been there for at least the better part of a century. 

He turns around when he hears Bucky approaching. “Is this…?” he asks, voice trailing off.

Bucky nods. 

“It looks so different,” Steve says.

“You should see the rooms,” Bucky replies. It’s a clear invitation. The first time, in fact, that Bucky has actually invited Steve to his space. Bucky turns towards the stairs, certain that Steve will follow him. 

His third floor room is nothing like the room they occupied all those years ago. The entire hotel has been renovated to give it a more modern look. The old hardwood floors are still the same, though. Steve follows him inside, closing the door behind him. Even though everything has changed, it’s hard not to relive memories in this place. They’d almost managed to forget about the war in the days they spent here.

Bucky is on him in seconds, pushing him against the door and kissing him. Steve moans into his mouth, his hands coming up to frame Bucky’s waist, pulling him closer. In between kisses, they manage to get rid of their clothes and Bucky pulls Steve away from the door, walks him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and Bucky pushes him on top of it. Steve scoots up the bed until his back is resting against the headboard.

Bucky straddles him and reaches over to the drawer in the nightstand for the lube. Never let it be said he isn’t prepared. He fingers himself quickly while Steve watches him, wide-eyed, hands rubbing up and down Bucky’s thighs. 

When he finally sinks down on Steve, he has to avert his eyes. Steve’s face is too open right now, the warmth in his eyes too much to look at. He moves his hips slowly at first, letting himself get used to the feeling. Steve isn’t trying to direct his movements, letting Bucky set the rhythm and pace. 

He _needs_ more, so he picks up the pace to something close to frantic, and still Steve isn’t moving much. His hand comes up to move a lock of hair that’s fallen in front of Bucky’s face. “Look so good like this, Buck.” Steve’s other hand gingerly traces the scars on his shoulder, webbing out to his chest. He’s never touched Bucky there before. 

Bucky whines, out of frustration or because he feels more exposed like this than he ever did before with Steve he’s not sure. He just wants to get off and Steve isn’t letting him by letting Bucky do all the work. Bucky wraps his right hand around his cock, giving himself the stimulation Steve is denying him. Steve moans at the sight and finally starts thrusting his hips up, his hands at Bucky’s waist to steady him, Bucky’s left hand clutching the headboard. 

Bucky comes like that, shooting off all over Steve’s chest. Steve follows him moments later. 

Steve pulls him in for a kiss. They don’t do that. Kissing as a preamble to sex is one thing. Kissing afterwards is more intimate somehow. Bucky kisses him back all the same. 

Bucky finally moves off Steve and lies down next to Steve. They don’t talk. Eventually, he hears the deep breathing that tells him Steve has drifted off to sleep. Bucky gives in to his own exhaustion and falls asleep within minutes.

**

The bed creaks as Steve starts to get up, waking Bucky from his sleep. Before he can think of the implications of what he’s doing, he reaches for Steve’s arm. “Stay.” 

Steve turns his head to stare at Bucky, who closes his eyes again, pretending to go back to sleep. In reality, his heart is beating hard against his ribcage. Steve doesn’t say a word, just crawls back under the covers. Bucky smiles.

**

When they wake up again, it’s long past sunrise. Steve is still next to him, giving him a puzzled look. 

Bucky’s throat constricts. He hadn’t thought this through. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He can’t _stay_ , but he really doesn’t want to leave just yet. So instead, he does the one thing he knows how to do. He guides Steve’s fingers to his hole, which is still loose and slightly slick from last night. 

Steve’s rougher with him than he was last night, but Bucky isn’t complaining. He fucks Bucky hard and fast and after he comes inside of him, he helps Bucky over the edge with his hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock. 

They don’t kiss. 

Steve lies down on top of Bucky, his solid weight a grounding force, Bucky’s legs still wrapped around Steve. They drift off again for a few hours. 

Bucky wakes up, Steve still on top of him. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing deeply, not quite snoring. He waits for Steve to wake up, contemplating the situation he got the two of them in. The longer this goes on, the more he realizes he doesn’t want to give it up. 

Steve opens his eyes blearily and sits up, looking at Bucky. For once, Bucky can’t read his face. “We should talk.” 

Bucky nods. They can’t avoid it any longer. Still, neither of them actually initiates a conversation and silence stretches between them.

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve finally asks. It’s a genuine question, not an accusation.

There’s no good answer to this question. What he wants and what he can have are two very different things. “I don’t know,” he hedges. Steve sighs. “What about you?” Bucky asks.

Steve averts his eyes. “I want to bring you home.” 

“Steve,” Bucky begins.

“Bucky,” Steve interrupts. “I know. But you asked me what I want. That’s it.”

“I can’t do that.” 

“I didn’t ask you what you can or can’t do. I asked you what you want.” Steve pauses. “Do you want me?” 

Bucky raises his eyebrows. He looks down at Steve’s chest, where the evidence of what they did is still visible. “Do you really need to ask that?” 

Steve scoffs. “I’m not just a quick fuck,” he shoots back, voice cold. 

Bucky laughs bitterly. “You think if that’s what I wanted I couldn’t find that anywhere and it wouldn’t be a whole hell of a lot easier?” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Steve looks hurt.

“So why me, then?” Steve demands. “Why go to all the trouble, huh, Buck?”

“Because you know me.” He can’t look at Steve as he says it. It’s like poking at an open wound. For all his insisting that he’s not the Bucky Steve knew, it comes down to this: Steve still knows him better than anyone ever has. 

He hears Steve’s sharp intake of breath. “I doubt it sometimes,” Steve admits. “But I want to know you. This you.” 

Bucky looks back at Steve. “I don’t know how.” 

“Let me stay. If you can’t come home with me, just let me stay,” Steve pleads. Bucky nods and Steve’s face crumples. “I’ve missed you so much,” he chokes out, tears rolling down his cheeks. Bucky pulls him closer, arms wrapping around him. It’s the first time they’ve hugged since this whole thing started. Steve lets out a broken sob against Bucky’s shoulder, holding him tightly. 

The thing they started in Prague was fucked up. But as they hold each other, for the first time he thinks maybe it doesn’t have to be.

\---

It ends in Brooklyn.

Actually, if Steve’s being honest with himself, it ended in Tallinn. Maybe even before that. But Tallinn was different from all those other times. It was the first time Steve felt something like affection coming from Bucky. 

And then London happened. Steve ended up staying almost a week. He’d taken a leave of absence right after Tallinn. Nobody thought twice of it; everybody needs a break sometimes. He’d still be on call for world-ending catastrophes, but he’s taken a vacation from the day-to-day business of going on missions to track down HYDRA or some other shady organization. He told Sam and Natasha he was going travelling for a while. Natasha had narrowed her eyes at him, but she didn’t call him out, just told him to “stay safe.” 

He has only just returned to the States, after two months of non-stop chasing Bucky across Europe. After London, there was nowhere else left to go.

They’d finally talked, for hours and hours. They avoided a lot of subjects - Steve never asked Bucky about the things he endured at HYDRA’s hands or the things they made him do - but the one thing they kept coming back to was: where do we go from here?

“I’m a war criminal and a traitor,” Bucky had said. 

“You didn’t have a choice,” Steve had countered. “Something can be arranged for you.” 

“And if it can’t? If I enter the country and am summarily hauled off to a military prison?”

“That won’t happen,” Steve had reassured him.

“You don’t know that.”

“I wouldn’t let them.” 

Bucky remained skeptical, but Steve is intent on proving him wrong. It became clear over the past few days that Bucky no longer _wants_ to keep his distance, but that he feels he has to for his own safety. Steve didn’t let a war get between them. This is nothing compared to that.

He calls Natasha before his flight home, asking her to meet him at his DC apartment as soon as he gets back. 

She’s already there, waiting for him when he walks through the door. 

“So what’s all this about?” she asks.

“Okay, just...hear me out before you start yelling at me.” He gestures for her to sit. She raises an eyebrow at him, but sits down anyway, waiting for Steve to continue. “I found Bucky.”

“What? When?” Natasha asks.

“Eight months ago.”

She stands up and though she’s tiny compared to him, Steve finds himself taking a step back. “What the fuck, Rogers?” 

He holds up his hands. “Just hear me out, okay?” She crosses her arms, but nods. “He wants to come back, but he doesn’t think it’s safe. Can SHIELD protect him?” 

Natasha frowns. “Eight months, Jesus Christ. Why did it take so long for you to come out with this? What the fuck have you been doing for eight fucking months?” 

Steve feels his cheeks heat up. He avoids her eyes.

“Oh my God, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t,” Natasha says, shocked.

He kind of hates how well she can read people. “It’s not like it was part of the plan.” That’s only half true. It wasn’t part of the plan the first time, maybe the second time. All those other times, they knew exactly what they were stepping into.

“You’re an idiot,” she scolds him. 

“But can you help him?” Steve asks.

She sighs. “Let me see what I can do.” She makes for the door, then stops abruptly. “Does Sam know?” Steve shakes his head. “Better tell him before he hears it from someone else.”

She’s right, of course. He texts Sam, asks him to come over. 

“Hey, man!” Sam greets him. “How was your trip?” 

Steve grimaces. Better to tell him right off the bat. “You might wanna sit down for this,” Steve suggests. Sam looks worried, but does as he’s told. “I was with Bucky.”

“You, uh, what now?” Sam asks. 

“I found him eight months ago, in Prague,” Steve explains. “Been chasing him across Europe ever since.” 

Sam stares at him, eyes wide in shock. “You’re fucking with me.”

Steve shakes his head. “I wouldn’t lie about this.”

He can see the truth of his words sink in. “So why not tell me? And why keep following him? Either he wants to be found or he doesn’t,” Sam says, frowning. 

That blush spreads to his face again. “Yeah, about that, I uh...we had an understanding,” he says lamely, as if that explains anything.

“What kind of understanding?” Steve has never seen Sam look so confused.

“I’d track him down and then I’d let him go again.” 

“But why?” 

Steve’s face must be the color of a tomato by now. He knows it’s old-fashioned in this day and age, but he’s not good at talking about sex, much to Tony’s continued amusement. 

Understanding suddenly dawns on Sam’s face. “Jesus Christ. You fucked, didn’t you?” 

Steve rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “Uh, yeah.”

“So you’d have sex and then you’d leave again until you tracked him down in another city and start the whole thing all over again?” Sam asks. Steve nods. “You know how fucked up that is, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But we finally talked about it the last few days.” 

“Oh, good,” Sam says sarcastically. “Took you long enough.” He shakes his head. “Eight months,” he mutters under his breath. 

“He wants to come back. He just needs to know he’s going to be protected,” Steve explains.

Sam is silent for a long moment. “You really want this, huh?” 

“I can’t live without him. Not as long as I know he’s out there and wants me in his life. I’m not losing him again. I’ll give up the shield if I have to.” He’s known this for a while now, at least since Tallinn. He’d drop everything for Bucky. 

“You really need to do something about that self-sacrificing streak of yours,” Sam says, but there’s no malice behind his words.

Steve laughs; Bucky had said something to the same effect. But they’re wrong: it’s not a sacrifice if he’s just chasing his own selfish desires. 

**

Natasha is a hero. A saint. A lifesaver. It takes a month to arrange everything, but SHIELD has promised to protect Bucky. Steve had pored over the paperwork, checking every detail to see if it couldn’t be used to compromise Bucky after all. Of course, he should have known Natasha wouldn’t give him anything less than ironclad.

He had given Bucky his number in London and he texts Steve from various burner phones over the course of that month. In the end, Steve decides it’s best for him to escort Bucky to the States himself. He flies to Budapest to meet Bucky and from there, SHIELD has arranged a private flight for them to a SHIELD base outside of DC. 

Once they’ve taken off, Bucky unbuckles his seat belt and moves to sit in Steve’s lap. “Hey,” he says, leaning in for a filthy kiss. “You a member of the mile high club yet?” Steve shakes his head. “Me neither,” Bucky says. “I’m thinking we should do something about that.” He grinds down on Steve’s lap to punctuate his point. 

Steve laughs and pulls him in for another kiss, licking into Bucky’s mouth and trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, hands disappearing down Bucky’s jeans to cup his ass.

The flight is over before they know it.

**

It takes the better part of a day for Bucky to be cleared by SHIELD. He reads all the paperwork meticulously; Steve can hardly blame him for being careful. 

Hours later, Bucky signs the last of the paperwork and they’re free to go.

**

Steve has always preferred his Brooklyn apartment to the one in DC. Washington is convenient sometimes, so he has kept the lease going. He has more money in this century than he knows what to do with anyway. But Brooklyn is his home. Brooklyn is where he wants to bring Bucky. 

They step into his apartment. It’s spacious; two bedrooms, a large kitchen with every appliance Steve could think of, and a bathroom with a shower big enough for the both of them. He prepared the other bedroom for Bucky, just in case. He didn’t want to assume anything. 

Bucky looks at the art on his walls. Steve had bought them off local up and coming artists, instead of going for more established names. 

“Welcome home, Buck,” Steve says.

Bucky turns to look at him, a radiant smile on his face. He drops his duffel bag in the middle of the living room, approaches Steve and kisses him.

After months, years, decades apart, they’re home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked this, please know that comments and kudos sustain me :).


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